


Midnight Angel, You'll Lose Your Wings

by NocturnLily



Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: 1940s, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Attempted Murder, Bisexual Female Character, Drug Use, Drugs, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Girls with Guns, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Infidelity, Multi, Past Infidelity, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:27:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22837009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NocturnLily/pseuds/NocturnLily
Summary: Evelyn King is a southern girl who went to the Big Apple to find an exciting life for herself. But something happened, something she ran all the way to Los Angeles to get away from. Now, serving two relatively quiet years behind a Central LAPD secretarial desk, her world is about to get turned upside down again.She almost hopes she won't survive it.[rated for future chapters]
Relationships: Cole Phelps/Marie Phelps, Elsa Lichtmann/Cole Phelps, Gordon Leary/Original Female Character(s), Jack Kelso (L.A. Noire)/Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s), Roy Earle/Original Female Character(s), Stefan Bekowsky/Cole Phelps, Stefan Bekowsky/Original Female Character(s), Stefan Bekowsky/Roy Earle, Stefan Bekowsky/Roy Earle/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. A New Start in '44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn's been working only a handful of months in Central - plenty of time to work the playground of colleagues. But these are good folks in this town, and she never meant to get attached so quickly. Especially not to Stefan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took some liberty with details of Stefan's partner, as we don't know who he was saddled with when he made Traffic. He'll probably make an appearance later, though, cause damn if I don't love throwing wrenches every which where >B)c

_KNWZ News Time, 4:30. Police say the missing car belonging to Georgette Bauerdorf, the young heiress found drowned in the bathtub of her Sunset Strip apartment, has been found_.

Slender fingers reached for the dial of the radio on her bar, turning the volume up to combat the crackling of the speaker.

 _A resident of South Los Angeles reported seeing the 1936 Olds, which had been parked at the curb on East 25th Street. That's about twelve miles east of miss Bauerdorf's apartment_ —

Ruby lips pursed, cradling a home-rolled cigarette.

— _Police found keys in the starter, but say the car was_ —Click.

It was all over the news - Hollywood socialite and aspiring actress, dead in her home. The Bauerdorfs were New York royalty, their oil the only saving grace from being socially lambasted as the war raged on. The running story was that she'd collapsed. Drugs, maybe. But, knowing how many patriots and good ole boys being sent back, it wouldn't be a difficult stretch to think one of them would make her for an easy target. She didn't care to think about it too much. Whoever took her wheels at least had the good sense to abandon the damn thing.

Evelyn took a drag as she rummaged through her belongings, ignoring the uneasy chill teasing her nerves. She was going to be late, and that wouldn't do for her image.

* * *

Chatter bubbled among the secretaries and dispatch girls. Someone heard from a friend of a friend, so-and-so is sure she saw; small congregations dispersed when detectives and captains and lieutenants bustled through but, like excitable birds, they always fluttered back together. On its surface, it looked like the gossip mill on any other day, but there was an unsettled thrum to it all. It took the comforting words of self-assured patrolmen that the girls were safe. It was unfortunate, but the boys in Hollywood have it covered.

They'll bag whoever was responsible. Business as usual, nothing to worry about.

Evelyn ticked away at her typewriter, falling into herself to drown out all the unnecessary noise. For all Stefan's complaining of watching paint dry in Traffic, she could sure as hell tell him different when Captain Leary's paperwork crossed to and from her desk. A leg and hip sat comfortably, suddenly, at the edge of her peripheral. Speak of the devil and his playful grin.

"Morning, Evie."

Well, wasn't he cheery? She couldn't keep from smiling if she tried. "Mornin', Stefan."

"How's my favorite belle doin' today?"

"Busy, no thanks to you." He feigned hurt at that, pouting. "Maybe if you didn't plow through half of LA—"

"Hey, now," A quick sip of coffee, and a quick, waggled finger, "that wasn't my fault. The bastard I was chasing down did the work for me, I just rolled him over the tar."

She snorted, and his grin widened.

"I'll make sure to tell the Cap you oughta be taken off the hook for it, then."

"Well, that would be just _grand!_ What a swell gal."

Evelyn waved him off and he laughed. She really ought to take a break; it was nearing lunchtime, and she wouldn't turn down some company. Stefan had abandoned his perch in search of the coffee pot, and she took the opportunity to tuck away the papers littering her desk. On his return, there was a quizzical pass between her and her station.

"Oh c'mon, you're getting lunch, ain'tcha?"

He snorted. "I wish. I only stopped in cause it was on the way."

"You'd turn down a woman willin' to feed ya?"

" _Well_ now." A waggle of eyebrows and a skip in his step and Evelyn was beating down a fit of giggles. "Look at the silver tongue on _you_."

"Can't say no to a pretty lady to save your life."

" 'Specially when she's buyin'."

"You're awful."

"And you _love_ me for it."

Such was their banter, any time there was a pause in the day. The pair of them were fast friends when she transplanted earlier in the year; he couldn't resist dancing around a pretty, green-eyed face, and she adored his playful nature. She should have seen the rumor mill coming, at the time. Both of them. Stefan, everyone's favorite Pole and newly-minted detective in Traffic, sniffing almost exclusively around a brand new skirt? They both got their share of jealous looks.

It was October, now, and this became a settled routine. Lucky girl that she was, Evelyn managed to get chummy with the rest of the house in that time. They found her southern charms endearing - cute, even. She was the 'token belle', though that wasn't always to her advantage. She ignored it most times, but she wasn't deaf—she'd overheard some of the meaner quips surrounding her. Hired for that face and them hips, and nothing else; fresh meat, probably wouldn't survive without the care of whatever uniform she was chatting up; good ole girls like her played fast and loose, and Lord help any married man she turned her eye to.

Evelyn took great care to nip what she heard in the bud. Coy and flattering to the men of the station, upstanding and sociable to the other gals—it was by design. They were her new foundation. They were important if she was to feel any sort of safe in this new town. Nevermind that they all grew on her.

A set of fingers snapped below her nose, and she started.

"Hey, you okay?"

Evelyn's pencil hovered over her time card - she'd gotten lost in thought. Stefan chuckled behind her, reaching around and plucking his own from its slot.

"They must be workin' you too hard."

She didn't miss a beat, flashing a grin. "Good thing I've got my cure-all right here, huh?"

"You got that right, kid. Come on, I'm starving."

* * *

The sun was sinking by the time Evelyn got to the last few items on her desk. Dispatch lit up shortly before she and Stefan made it back, and he was forced to cram the last of his meal down his throat before piling in with his partner, Larry Hayes. The man was rough around the edges, but being kept waiting—'Over your goddamn dame, when we got calls comin' in!'—put him in a particularly sour mood. Hayes was waved off with a, 'Just drive, will you, seeyalaterEvie!' before they disappeared down the street.

She hadn't seen him for the rest of the day.

With the second floor washed in oranges and shadows yawning over the streets below, the weight of the day settled over her eyes. A big yawn, bigger stretch, and she fiddled with an enamel clip nestled in her curly, black hair. Evelyn tucked some papers into her outgoing slot when Stefan dredged his exhausted mug up the stairs.

"Look what the cat dragged in."

"Hello to you, too."

Evelyn erupted in huffed chuckles and was rewarded with a smirk.

"You're here a little late, Leary got you pulling a long night?"

She tucked a few more papers away. "I'm just finishing up, actually."

"Lucky you. I gotta burn some oil if I wanna make it to Rawling's tomorrow night."

Every _chrk-chrk-chrk_ of feeding another sheet of paper into her typewriter pulled Stefan's grimace deeper. "Can't that wait til I get to my desk?"

"For you? Never."

" _Jesus_."

She puckered her lips at him, blowing a light kiss his way, and Stefan made a show of clutching his heart and stumbling past her. Evelyn laughed in earnest, hiding behind the back of her hand before getting too loud with it. Too late. He was mid-pushing himself up from her desk when Leary's door opened and he popped his head out.

"What the hell is goin' on—?" The captain looked between the two, fixing Stefan in a stare as the detective righted himself. "You lose your legs, there, Bekowsky?"

"Sure did, sir - can't help that she's a knock-out."

Evelyn's shoulders shook in a silent uproar, and the captain turned his attention on her. He didn't bother hiding the grin playing up the corners of his mouth.

"Next time, Evelyn, do me a favor and knock him _towards_ his desk, would ya?"

"Yessir."

The door closed, and Stefan trudged past and into the room adjacent to Briefing. The oranges in the room fell to dusty pinks, now, and Evelyn tugged on the dangling chain of her lamp. Merriment aside, she really did have to put the finishing touches on her work. If she intended on bumming a ride to the bowling alley tomorrow night, then she'd better get her affairs in order, too. Yes, she drove, but what fun was that when she could carpool?

Nothing wrong with being... opportunistic.


	2. The Drug Store

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm a firm believer that Halloween is a long-detested holiday for any police force. Kids were, and always have been, brutal to each other - especially during this time of the year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like a quarantine to make you wanna write, amirite
> 
> Told y'all Hayes would be back, I just didn't anticipate him being back immediately but here we are lmao

_“So, you’re coming to us all the way from New York, is that right?”_

_“Yessir, that’s right.”_

_He leaned back into his chair, looking through an open manilla folder laid out over a leather desk pad. There was a pause, a gentle ruffle, a thoughtful hum.  
_

_"You got some work-up here, Miss King." Captain Leary's tone was light, but she didn't miss the appraising once-over. Suspicion? She wasn't sure. But there was a twinkle in his eye. "You got friends in good places. Really good places. And a knack for decent work."_

_Evelyn shifted in her seat, fighting the heat rising unbidden in her cheeks under his stare. He leaned forward again, cradling his temple against curled fingers as he pored over the file again. It was like he was committing every detail to memory, making sure he was reading the print correctly. It was hard for him to keep a smirk from curling, and the swell of flattery in her chest faltered. He fixed her again with something between bewilderment and intrigue._

_"From what I'm seeing, the boys in Hollywood could make better use of you. And you say you're not interested in—?"_

_"Not... exactly." His expression changed to something unreadable on her interruption. "Call it a fresh start."_

* * *

Morning crept over Los Angeles in a blanket of dusty purples and blues, its twinkling remnants drowned in street lamps and car exhaust. A delivery truck rattled down an alley off 3rd, its brakes wheezing as they stopped short of their mark. A two-door coupe, sitting kitty-corner and part-way pushed into the wooden fence behind it, blocked the way. A young man, tired and ready to call the day done, threw open his driver's side and shouted for the other car's attention.

No one answered him, and his head hung as he pushed an exhale hard through his nose. He ran a hand down the length of his face, hopping down and crossing the glaring pool of his headlights.

"Who fuckin' parks like th— hello? _Hello?_ " The young man knocked rapidly on the glass of the passenger window. "Can you move your car, I got a delivery to make—"

Cupping his hands and looking in, imagine his surprise to find no one occupied the cab. He tried the handle, and nothing. Rounding the nose of the coupe to try again, he struck out a second time. Locked.

The delivery gate slid up with a clatter.

A portly man, balding and grey, half-hung from the frame of the platform. He scanned the parking lot, stopping when he saw the young man making his way over.

"Jeremy! There you are, boy, good morning!"

"Yeah, morning Mr Buchanan," he grumbled. "You know anything about this car takin' up the alley?"

Shoving his other hand in the pocket of his apron, Mr Buchanan's moustache bristled as his lips pursed with consideration.

"Can't say I do. There's no one in there?"

"No sir."

"Alright, well... try and bring the truck as close as you can. I'll call about the car."

* * *

Larry was on his third cigarette of the morning when Stefan made it into the briefing room. A steaming cup half-lifted in greeting, the younger man sidled behind his partner to get to the unoccupied chair next to him. Larry flicked smouldering ash into the tray on the table as a hand clapped him on the shoulder.

Chatter in the room died down as Captain Leary strolled in shortly after, clipboard in hand and a mug of his own.

The morning run-down was more than their usual fare. It wasn't surprising. Halloween was only a couple weeks out, and that meant an uptick in trouble. Hit-and-runs, joyriding punks swiping their neighbor's cars, that sort of thing; Larry and Stefan were the last to receive an assignment.

"Got an abandoned Ford coupe stashed behind McGormick's in an alley off 3rd, between Lucas and Bixel. The store owner called it in, thought it was suspicious. Get down there and see what you can find out."

Larry twisted the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray before pushing himself up, leaving Stefan to push his chair in for him as he followed. Their path crossed directly with Evelyn's desk, and Stefan took the opportunity to pluck at the sheet of paper she was reading. It must've been important if her startled yelp was anything to go by. His dimpled grin tempered the scowl she shot at him, and she instead opted for rolling her eyes as he made his retreat.

Stefan chuckled, and his partner made a sound between annoyed and disgusted further down the stairs.

"Don't you think it's too early for you to be playing Cassanova?"

He didn't wait for an answer, shoving his way through the station doors as Stefan trotted to catch up.

"Don’t you think you’re a little old to be complaining?”

The car doors slammed shut, the silence thick between them, and Stefan wondered if his jibe had been too hard. Larry was content to let the younger man sweat it out before a wry grin curled over thin lips.

“Fuck you, Bekowsky.”

The drive to McGormick’s was relatively short, dispatch calls interrupting the music that occupied the trip. A wall of shopping fronts greeted them a couple blocks down as they turned onto 3rd, bisected by an alley. A large wooden plaque over one of them confirmed they had the right spot. The narrow drive opened to a lot behind the store, sparse and mildly littered, with a vehicle jammed against the fence on the furthest edge of the pavement.

Dark blue, two-door, chrome detailing running down the body; Stefan already had his notepad in-hand as he stepped out.

“Take a look around, I’ll hunt down the owner. Whatsisname—”

“Buchanan,” Stefan offered, thumbing his notes open.

“Buchanan. Thanks.”

Stefan offered a salute with his pencil, rounding the front of the abandoned car and scratching down the plate. The grill was warped, and the front fender jutted upward under the left headlight. Was this before or after leaving it behind? Hm.

Discoloured patches running along the seam of the wheel well caught Stefan’s attention, and he knelt down. He’d have missed it, were it not for the sunlight bouncing off the grill. Whoever left the car here tried to clean it, judging by the smears running back and forth over the paint. Listening to the sinking chill in his belly, Stefan got back to his feet and set about inspecting the rest of the vehicle.

Larry couldn’t get anyone to answer the back door. In rounding the corner, he hollered about going through the front. A bell jingled lightly as the detective stepped inside, finding a rotund gentleman putting a young lady’s money in the register.

“Mornin’, sir. Ma’am.” He tugged lightly on the brim of his hat, stepping aside as the lady made her way out. “You Mr Buchanan?”

“I am.”

“Detective Hayes, Traffic.” He reached out to shake the other’s hand. “I’m here about the car you called in.”

“I was wondering when someone would show up, I called a while ago.”

“ ‘preciate your patience. What can you tell me about this morning?”

Mr Buchanan propped his weight on his hands, leaning against the counter as he shrugged.

“Only what I told the young man when I called. My delivery boy pulled up around five thirty this morning — that’s late, for him. I poked my head out back ‘cause I thought I heard him yelling, and that’s when I saw the car. Couldn’t get around it. Poor kid had to cart everything from where he was parked.”

“So your delivery guy saw it first. What’s his name?”

“Jeremy.”

“Last name?”

“Parker, I think.”

“Alright—”

Stefan erupted from the store’s front, the bell ringing violently as he fixed his partner with a stare of urgency.

“Hey Hayes, call for an ambulance! I got a kid stuffed in the trunk, she’s breathing but I dunno how long she’s been in there.”

“Oh shit,” Hayes breathed. He turned to Mr Buchanan. “Where’s your phone?”

He pointed to the furthest wall in the back, to a wall-mounted unit, and Larry breezed past the shelves as he reached for the receiver. Stefan ran back out, his partner’s voice calling for an ambulance fading behind him. The angle of the car meant he had to wrench the hatch open, and it remained that way on his return.

A young woman lay bloodied and curled into herself. She was largely unresponsive, save for the hiccups in shallow breaths. Stefan didn’t dare move her, afraid of what might happen if she stopped breathing in his arms. The wail of emergency sirens began floating through the air when Larry made his way back, his brow knotting as he took stock.

“Christ, what a state.”

The ambulance arrived with an escort, the pair of prowlers taking up posts at each end of the alley to keep anyone from coming or going. Their only possible witness hung by a thread, her hopes hinged on the diligent care of Central’s hospital.

The day just got a whole lot more interesting.


End file.
